We stepped into the great hall and joined the immense crowd. There were thousands of Titans, most wearing warpaint. In the center, a raised dais where four Titan chieftains stood. I recognized A’nshon who had rescued us from the Changeling soldiers on the surface.
He wore traditional Titan armor complete with dents and scratches from a lifetime of battles. The others wore similar but different plates of armor.
Fiath pointed each one out to me.
“See the one with the thick plume on top of his helmet?” he said. “His name’s Qi. He’s one of the most fearsome chieftains in the empire. And the smaller Titan, the only female, wearing leather armor? That’s Nus.”
“Nus,” I repeated to myself in an attempt to memorize their names. “And Qi. The one with the feather.”
It was hard to miss the fourth chieftain. His armor shimmered and changed color each time he moved.
“That’s M’rar Thres,” Fiath said. “His tribe is one of the most peaceful in the empire. They still fight but only when all other options have been worn out.”
“M’rar Thres,” I said.
I loved their names. They sounded like something from the fantasy books I used to read as a kid. I always loved to read.
The four chieftains sat on stools. M’rar Thres and Nus sat facing away from each other. No one made eye contact with Qi, but everyone seemed quite happy to talk with A’nshon.
Not all was well among the leadership.
A general buzz filled the huge antechamber from the thousands of gathered Titans. Stalactites jutted from the ceiling and pointed down like dangerous spears.
This antechamber didn’t have the same appearance as the tunnels. If I had to guess, I would have said this room was natural whereas the tunnels were Titan-made. More tunnels wound into this central hub along the other walls.
A’nshon stood up and eyed the crowd.
“Silence!” he said, his voice booming in the cavernous space.
The audience quietened and listened to what he had to say.
“Congratulations on making it to the Fallen Temple,” he said. “There are fewer of us than I would like but more than enough for us to launch an effective attack on the Changelings. They attacked and killed our emperor and the beacons are lit. They thought they could quell our resistance by destroying our tribes. But they were wrong. Now, it is time for us to respond to their attacks with full force!”
The crowd roared. At least, they did for the most part. Some shuffled their feet.
M’rar Thres leaped to his feet, his shimmering armor holding everyone’s attention.
“We should not attack, not yet,” he said. “More Titans are coming. If we wait, if we gather a larger force, then we should attack. We will overpower them and there will be no way to stop us. Until then, I suggest we communicate with them. Peace is always better than war.”
His comments were met with hoots of approval from those who shuffled their feet earlier. They wore similar, if less shiny, armor as their chieftain. I realized the gathered Titans were divided by tribe.
I wondered how united the resistance really was.
“Peace? There can be no peace,” Qi said, his plume giving him an extra foot to his already intimidating height. “Every trade embargo, every attempt at peace we’ve made has been met with disaster. There can be no peace with these creatures. We cannot afford to wait. Every minute we wait, the Changelings get closer to discovering us. We must attack now. It’s the only chance of success we have.”
More hoots of acceptance. The gathered Titans seemed split roughly down the middle.
Nus, the only female chieftain, got to her feet next.
“The truth is, we don’t have the weapons we need to defeat the Changelings,” she said. “We should wait, but not for when we have enough warriors, but when we have enough powerful weapons.”
Before she even sat down, Qi was on his feet and up in her face.
“You would wait until the Changelings attack and bring the Fallen Temple down on our heads!” he spat.
Nus growled and slipped a knife from the sheath at her side. Qi had a foot or more on Nus, but she showed no signs of backing down.
Hatred borne from centuries of bickering and squabbling came to the fore. The Titan audience broke apart and squared off against each other.
A’nshon got between the chieftains about to come to blows on the stage and shoved them apart. He glared at them with his one good eye.
“Do not fight!” he said. “This is exactly what the Changelings want! If we’re going to mount an effective battle against them, we must work together.”
Qi ran a hand through his thick plume.
“No one doubts your bravery, A’nshon,” he said. “I’ve met you on the battlefield many times and always came away with a fresh scar, but you are asking for the impossible. Never in all our history have our clans come together.”
“You’re wrong,” Nus said, getting to his feet. “Our ancestors put aside their differences during the Great Welding, when we fought a similar foe all those millennia ago.”
“We had the emperor to lead us,” Qi said. “But now, he has been taken from us.”
The Titans whimpered on the stage and in the crowd. It could never be said often enough: the emperor was the heart and soul of the Titans.
“This isn’t going well,” I said. “The Changelings will win if they don’t work together.”
“It’s difficult for them to go against their nature,” Fiath said. “They’ve spent so many years fighting each other. It kept their skills sharp but dulled their wits.”
“They need someone to follow,” I said. “Someone to unite them against their common enemy.”
Fiath was quiet. Then he sighed and those lines returned to his mouth and eyes.
“We could leave, you and I,” he said. “We could leave this place right now and no one would notice. We could creep into the forest and go anywhere in the empire. We could set up a home somewhere,
